The Wakeboard of Destiny
Absolution - Laboratories The science sector of the Absolution is a sterile, cold space in which all manner of technomacabre experiments occur behind sealed doors. Thick, clear walls quarantine necessary areas, bridged by corridors with lit walkways. Unless the holoscreens are up, anyone walking through the area can see into any of the lab spaces -- some might prove utterly boring, and some might contain sights that cannot be unseen. The workspaces are largely soundproofed, rendering the walkways almost eerily quiet, save for the footsteps of others and the occasional hisses of doors. Contents: Fleet Arachnae Obvious exits: leads to Absolution - Medical Bay. leads to Absolution - Deck Twenty. Arachnae is hard at work, theoretically, at one of the lab setups. Displayed around her are various cargo plats used for hovering materials too and fro deliveries, off and on ships and the like, all in various stages of disassembly. She's sporting a set of welding goggles on over her visor and is armed with a laz-torch, bent over one of the former cargo plats that now sports a series of vented fins along the rear corners, a curved 'underside with a scoop opening and what looks like a tow line locking loop assembly at the nose. She's merrily humming along, in tune with the bbbzzzt-hzzt of the welding she's focused on. Fleet is really just exploring. Huge new space ship. Might as well know the layout, all the escape routes, etc etc. The Seeker's feet fall on the metal floor with a light tap-tap-tap as he enters, and then the noise stops as he looks around and studies the room. I want my MTV!! Rampage says, "Son of Jor-El! Kneel before Zod!" Arachnae pauses in the welding, staring at the neatly rolled weld seam for a moment. The plat is spun over, attached as it is rear and for to a lathe-type holder so she can maneuver it to her liking. The scoop is poked at with a talon before the torch is used to meld down the leading edge, giving it a slight down-turned 'lip in the process. Tap-tip-tap-tip. Fleet spots Arachnae and draws near, curious to see what she's up to. "Ah, Arachnae," he begins. "Breaking in the new facilities?" Monstereo says, "And thats when the troops lost respect for their General." Arachnae glances up, the goggles over her visor lending even more to the aspect of 'bug optic'd' medic. She shuts the welding device down and pushes visor with goggles over her forehead. "Of course." Waving a hand, "Wonderful new facilities, got to break them in right." Merry smile. Monstereo says, "http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mKTCW4oxS6I" Fleet starts to move forward, hesitates, frowns, tilts his head to the left, then shrugs and closes the distance completely. "May I ask what you're up to?" Arachnae ohs, then claps her hands together, still grinning, "Something that came to mind when I was towing Catechism in from space. wakeboards!" She bounces, yes, bounces over to one, "See, take a standard cargo grav plat, add a plasma and ion sensitive scoop and some venting steering vanes, modify the gravametric plates to allow for a stickier top surface to keep feet on and I think we have a new sport." She moves back to the one that seems mostly complete. 'Wanted to finish this one up to give to her, but I haven't the foggiest what her favorite color scheme is." "Just go with sky-cammo?" Fleet offers, finding a seat near where Arachnae works. "That's /her/ color scheme, so it will at least match her. Or, if not cammo specifically, just blues and grays." He pulles one leg up to rest on the stool's brace, then shifts position to more easily watch. Arachnae hmms, optics slitting. With her visor pushed up over her forehead, they do glow a bit more than one might have thought. "Camo, eh?" Giving the rather functionally colored pseudo-plat a spin on the medical lathe. "Wonder if I should drop a homing beacon in it and a short range radio repeater in case of dropping off the wake problems." She pops a panel open on the plat, eying the boards inside, "Or a singular defense pulse to prevent theft?" She's in one of the lab 'areas' surrounded by cargo plats in various states of disassembly, speaking to Fleet while working on a plat that has already been rather modified. Venting fins at the aft, an underside scoop apparatus and a base coat of primer. "The beacon's probably a good idea, provided it's a triggered beacon," Fleet suggests. "Don't want it transmitting on its own, and giving away one's position." Fleet is purched on a stool next to a work bench near Arachnae, chatting idly as the scientist works. Catechism has decided to take a tour of the Absolution. She won't see much of it, given that she's stationed on Cybertron, so she may as well take a good, long look at it while she can. Catechism tromps into the laboratory complex and takes note of Fleet and Arachnae. She's sure that Fleet is assisting Arachnae in very important science, but it can't hurt to stop over and say, 'Hi,' can it? So Catechism wanders over nearer to do just that. Arachnae hmms, reaching into the souped up cargo plat and yoinking a circuit board out. This gets added to a short stack of odds and ends while the erstwhile medic-researcher-whatnot goes through a lower cabinet for a few minutes, tossing things out behind her. "Set it to tune to the owner's sig and IFF then if they lose contact with the sticky plate itself, it beacons off to get picked up. Also drop a manual ping on it so if whoever's towing looses the rider, they can swing back and pick them up easier. Will help at higher speeds." Fleet shrugs both shoulders, than dips his head in a nod. "Sure." He glances up at Catechism arrives. Ah! It's a Catechism! The Seeker offers the conehead a faint smile. "Greetings, Catechism." Catechism greets cheerily, "Hello, Arachnae! Hello, Fleet! How are you two doing today?" She looks over at Arachnae's work, not understanding a bit of it. It's interesting to look at, though. Arachnae comes out of the cabinet, setting a few choice parts on a work-surface before looking up, and then waving at Catechism, "Hello there." Big, big smile. "Sky camo, just blues and greys or do you want something else painted on your board?" Catechism needs to ask Fleet some questions, actually, on Cyclonus's orders, but Arachnae neatly distracts the Seeker. Her optics widen, and she clasps her hands together. Catechism asks, as if not quite believing, "You'd make one for me? Just for me? I... I... I'll have to hunt down an Autobot for you! Not that you can't do that yourself, but I'm sure you're busy." She pauses and ponders, "Uhm, uh... could you do an Imperial phoenix?" She looks hopeful. Fleet is totally not helping Arachnae at all, or accomplishing anything useful. He's just sitting in a stool. In fact, he seems to start to zone out a little. Then the word 'hunt' is mentioned, and he shakes his head. "Which Autobot do you intend to hunt?" Arachnae's wings give a delighted twitch at Catechism's own perceived enjoyment. "I made this one just for you, the very first Stellar Wakeboard." Another twitch of wings, the medic-er yeah-type smiling merrily, optics bright as she turns to the 'board, working on installing a few more components, "Imperial Phoenix.. Standard or like a heraldic shield and where? Catechism, would, if she was more sensible, question being given a prototype piece of sporting equipment by a Decepticon scientist. Catechism is not sensible at all. She then looks over at Fleet and replies, "Uh, whoever Arachnae would want, really. I still need to hunt down whoever shot Lord Cyclonus, too. He said you knew something about it?" She gestures toward the front of the board and explains, "Kind of on the front, standard, if it's not too much trouble." Arachnae shrugs, then nods, "It's your board. Any particular overframe coloration for it?" She closes the panel up, eying the vent-fins at the rear. A moment is spent manually adjusting a braided metal covered conduit that leads from somewhere inside the device. Then she turns to get the paint for the imperial emblem, carefully calling up the specific hues and pattern needed. "Well, I was there, but I didn't really get a good look at him," Fleet answers, shaking his head apologetically. "I was mostly focusing on, well, Ultra Magnus in front of us and Cyclonus attempting to summon firking Unicron next to me. I think I spotted treads? That's about it." Catechism squints at Fleet. Fleet is usually the observant one! She inquires, "Treads. Any other alternative mode components? Perhaps some *colours*?" He can't have seen treads and not colours. She *knows* that Fleet can see in colour - he can tell her apart from Dirge and Ramjet. "The... overframe? Uhm... the grey and blue and black work, I think." Arachnae raises brows as she mixes base paint in a sprayer, "I thought that part of the report was just something being blown out of context? Was he really trying to summon Unicron or was he trying to put a scare on the enemy?" Genuinely curious, and working on applying a smooth basecoat for the prettiness. Adding a bit more of a carbon dust to the sprayer, she starts applying the initial layer of paint. "I told you, Catechism," Fleet shrugs, "I didn't catch a good look at him. I tend to put most of my focus on the biggest immediate threat. That was, in this case, Ultra Magnus. It was a new one, is all I know for sure. No one I recognize from before I crashed." Then he shakes his head towards Arachnae and sighs. "I wish I could say he was just trying to scare the Autobots, except that he first revealed the plan to me in private, when he commandeered me as the pilot. When I pointed out that Unicron's previous returns haven't usually heralded much good for the Empire, he struck me." Catechism notes very, very quietly, "Cyclonus did blow up the spaceport..." Command isn't there to be questioned, though, is it? She glares over at Fleet. "You're usually much more observant! Perhaps you need new optics." Something nags at her, and she tries to remember what. Arachnae sprays the base coat in sweeping swaths, listening to the two talk back and forth. "Hmmm.. Interesting." Is her thoughtful comment to Fleet on Cyclonus' behavior. Another pass with the paint gun and she exchanges the cartridge set out, working parts of the hover-plat with an inky indigo overlay, using it to lowlight the highpoints of the toy. "Maybe," Fleet allows. "I can sign myself up for a check-up, if you'd like, Catechism?" He glances over at Arachnae's work with interest, and wonders, "Catechism, with all that research you're doing into those prophesies, why haven't you tried to track down that one who's been spouting all that poetry over Cybertron and Terran frequencies?" Catechism ooohs softly over Arachnae's work. That indigo looks beautiful. Then, when Fleet asks her a very pointed question, she twiddles her fingers and looks away. "Uhm... about that. Right. You see... Hobo escaped out of a Decepticon shuttle onto Earth," under her watch. "He could be anywhere." "Ah," Fleet answers levelly. "So you've made no attempt to correct the problem." He shrugs right wing and right shoulder, almost absent. "Very well, then." Arachnae tilts her head, then touches a few more highpoints of the equipment with the indigo. The cartridge is swapped out once more only now housing a dark silvered grey, this being used to add false 'highpoints' through careful application. Her optics narrow as she mulls over the Imperial Phoenix for a moment then grins, working the silver carefully across the underside of the board. "That'll look nice. Overcoat with some luminescent gloss'll elicit a three dimensional appearance of the emblem itself.' Catechism puts her hands on her hips an looks cross. "I can't just say, 'Hey, Hobo! Come out so that I can capture you!' That only works on Foxfire." Then, she snaps her fingers and exclaims, "Oh! Arachnae, I talked to Snaptrap and Skalor. They told me that the Quintessons used subspace lockdown technology to try to hijack the spacebridge when we moved Cybertron and that they god the technology from Femax. I was thinking that some Decepticons ought to check it out. Being able to hijack the Autobot space bridge would be amazing!" Changing the subject? Yes. Fleet doesn't press, anyway, although he /does/ appear faintly amused. He watches Arachnae's work, brow-ridges raised, and whistles. "Very nice work, Arachnae." Arachnae swaps carts again, this time a matte black which is used to lay out a background diamond on which to plot the phoenix. No, nothing standard for this, she can't help but to think 'outside; the box, as it were. Once the black diamond is down, another swap, this time with the deeper violet hue begins the outlining of a stylized imperial phoenix, reaching outside the confines of the diamond, tail sweeping back to coil around underside vents. Swap-flip, a lighter hue, adding depth to the design, more intricate swirls, feathering that seems to gleam with a metallic edge to the veining, a glittering pinpoint denoting eyes in the swirling swaths of hues. Swap-flip and she leans in close, beginning an intricate layering of script, spelling out the foundation tenets of the empire on wings edges, in the violet fire of wings, in the edged feathering of the not-so-standard emblem. "Thanks, Fleet. Want to make it unique for Catechism there." Catechism admires Arachnae's work, oh yes, Catechism does. She murmurs, "Beautiful work." Then, she static-coughs, rubs the back of her cone, and she muses, "The dossier on Femax says that the natives are warrior women. Perhaps we will need disguises..." Arachnae takes a half step back to allow the intricate script to dry, "Organic females or mechanical?" she inquires, cleaning the sprayer head before blending the overcoat mixture. Catechism waves her hands about, like a small Terran child pretending to be an airplane. "But... they're big! Like, about the same height as us! If we use our alternate mode, we'll be far too small to be plausible transportation devices." A little more calmly, she explains, "Organic, Arachnae." Arachnae ahhs, now applying the overcoat with care and attention to detail. "Well, does it matter to them if the warrior female is mechanical or organic though? I am, classified as female." She smirks, "Interesting designation none the less, but it is truth." She pauses in the application, adjusting the overspray with the addition of another element then goes back to finishing off the project. Or the prototype of the wee project. "Have there been field tests of if they accept warrior females of different species?" "I don't think there's been much interaction with Femax at all," Fleet says, then adds, "Although I did steal a few crystals from there." Louder, he asks, "What about portable holo projectors, or something along those lines? Would that work?" Arachnae smiles at her handiwork, rather pleased with it. She had pondered adding some type of drone-slave programming to it but decided that for competition that would be deemed an unfair advantage. Maybe later. "Want to see something cool?" She asks, powering up her weapons systems. Catechism is also classed as a female, for some reason. She shrugs. She doesn't know, and Fleet probably knows more than she does. Her optics light up brighter, and she encourages, "Oh, yes!" Fleet slides off his stool and steps back. "Oh, sure. I'm in favor of cool things." He grins faintly, an almost cocky smile. "Especially lately." Arachnae taps the lathe setup that the board is attached to, rotating it so the bottom is facing the trio. On it is the intricately painted imperial phoenix image, underneath a wet look gloss overcoat that gives the illusion that it's much thicker than it really is. "Alright. Watch.." She primes primary weapons and lets out the faintest trickle of plasma, a mere whiff, letting it dissipate out towards the bottom of the board... Which reacts in a novel fashion, the lowlights and highlights underneath the overcoat seeming to shift and glimmer, the violet 'fire' seeming trapped behind a window. Another puff of plasma and as if a holo-painting, the image visually 'lifts' off of the topcoat, seemingly hovering, shifting hues just mere fingerswidth over the board's bottom. "There we go." Fleet's optics widen and he breathes low, soft. "That... Arachnae, that's fantastic! Really, a work of art." He grins at Catechism. "Congrats!" Catechism watches in amazement as Arachnae works her magic - for any sufficiently advanced science can be considered magic, after all. She gapes and struggles for words. A soldier, especially a soldier in this army, does not often see pretty things? Gorgeous things? Almost an impossibility. Finally, her fluttering CPU settles on, "...perhaps I need to hunt several Autobots for you." The best expression of thanks she can think of. Arachnae smiles, pulling the welding goggles off and setting them aside, "It's not too flashy is it?" A bit of worry in her tone before she gives wings a twitch of delighted embarrassment. "Wanted to try out a new paint layering technique. I think it's got some nice potential." Another shuffle of wings and she busies herself with tidying the workspace a moment, "You're veery welcome Catechism. Now you get to help me figure out the rules for this new sport of ours." Big, merry grin. "Rules?" Fleet asks. H steps back towards his stool and leans against it. "The first one: survive. Shall we focus only on keeping ourselves upright, or can we actively hinder others' efforts?" Arachnae considers, "I think the first one needs to be no shooting the towing craft. Or else you'll end up stranded somewhere in space unless you're ftl capable yourself." She winks. "Might want to test it first to get a handle on it, then see where we end up." Arachnae vanishes out of reality. Arachnae has left.